Top of the Invisble World
by Sparoe
Summary: Matthew is tired of his life. He wants it all to be over with, if not, at least someone to come and save him. T because for once, I do not think it is dark enough to be higher...


_This is the result of my unhappy and fed up mind. When I feel like this, this is what you get. Stupid angsty pieces with suicidal tendencies or a lot of violence, usually in the form of abuse or self inflicted. _

_ I think this is maybe forth piece that I have written that ends with suicide, two of which both involve Matthew, one that I have not yet to uploaded since the story is in pieces on my computer and I am so unmotivated with life that I have no idea if it will ever be finished...._

_There is no plot. Just lots of emo, abandonment and as you can tell up above, death. Excuse me will I escape to a dark corner somewhere..._

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And there I stood at the top of the world, it seemed, looking down over the icy water that loomed just a step over the edge. Shouldn't someone see me? Should there be someone to grab me and pull me back or at least call, "don't do it!"

There was nothing; just the sound of car upon car passing by, not giving a damn about me, who was standing on the other side of the fence on this bridge, a failed attempt to keep jumpers hearts beating another day.

My fingers were sore from gripping the wire of the fence, whining that they wanted to rest and gain the proper blood circulation, yet I ignored them. I kept my gaze steady forward, or down rather to the water that sparkled below.

It was calling me. It was showing me a way out of this place that I had slowly learned to hate. Was there a point living in a world when no one remembers your name?

It was as if I wasn't there. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I was just a mistake, a flaw that the world spotted too late and instead of killing me physically, they killed me in the minds of everyone else. Just left me to walk and empty existence with no meaning, with no people to fall back on.

How can I fall back on anyone if no one remembers who I am? The one companion that I have walked with since I was born onto this land doesn't remember me, not matter how many times I utter my name. It is not logical for someone to remember one's name if it has been told a thousand times before and the face is seen daily. It is as if my oldest friend, if I can call him that, does not want to remember. What was I then? Just the hand that feeds him and keeps him warm at night? Sure, it was true that he did not need these things, but it was a more comfortable life for him, was it not?

Not even my Papa, the one who found me and taught me of the world as a young child can remember me, for I have just become a love toy for him to try and get off on. It is as if those years no long exists and that I did not share a bed with him on those dark stormy nights when I was unable to sleep with the monsters roaring out side my window nor did he teach me my first words and made the world a place no longer of just images but rather gave me names and words to describe it all.

When was it that he forgot me, I use to wonder. If I was to guess it would when I was taken away and placed in Father's care. From then on ward, maybe he chose to forget who I was in order to ease the pain of losing his 'son'. The pain that he lost was passed to me. The pain of the first person that you smiled upon and thought was the greatest and most powerful person in the world just casts you aside. They let you be taken to a new life and then deny acknowledging that you exist.

It was no secret that I was not the favorite of Father. I always knew that he had a special place for his first son and I do not blame him. While he was loud and obnoxious, at least he had a personality that people could remember and recognize him for. I was too shy and quiet for anyone to remember me. They just glance my way, if they even see me, take in what ever needs to be said and walk away, letting my presence disappear. No one can forget brother. He demands attention and for people to know who he is. I was never able to do that and I was unsure where he got his never ending confidence from.

He stole away Father's attention and left me to just be his shadow. At first I didn't care. I let him walk over me and followed him blindly on the rare times that he was interested in my company, but usually it was just to use me to get what he wanted or do something that he knew that we would get in trouble for. He tried to place the blame on me and I took it upon myself, secretly wishing that he would like me for it and hang out with me more if he thought I was cool and for a moment, maybe Father would turn his attention to me. I wouldn't care if he yelled at me or even hit me; I just wanted him to see that I was there. But he never did. He seemed disinterested in the things I did and would just walk away and lock himself in his office, like he did night after night.

Finally, one day I was not important at all. He would place be as a priority far behind things like dog licensing tax. It was then I was alone and struggling to make my own way, losing having Father to glance at, even if he would not look back.

Then my dear brother took advantage of me once again. He offered me the things I needed when I had nothing and I took it, wondering if finally we would share a bond that would be untouchable.

I was blundered into darkness shortly after. All around me the people were struggling and I wondered if it was partly because of me. Because I took the bait with out looking to see who was catching. I wonder if the people hated me. Hated me because I was not able to support them when they needed support and I let them down, like I would let them down time after time.

I can never make them all happy. I wish I could, but there is no way. I let them down and I am worthless. Maybe they would be better off if I was still with Father and he was guiding me instead of me breaking off to be something bigger then I understood.

My fingers are still crying painfully and I begin to unpeel them from the steel. I look down at them and my fingers hold thick lines and are bright red. I curl them and they burn in response. I am teetering here. This is their last chance to come and change it all.

I just need to hear the cry of one voice to pull me back. The one voice who can remember who I am and tell me that my life was not a waste. That I did well and that I made a difference, no matter how small. Where is that person? Where is the person who is supposed to love me and care about how I feel?

The wind answers my question with a silent gust. There is no one. I have no one to lean back on and there is no one for me. I am not special. I am just a waste of space that could be filled with someone better than I.

I push myself off and I am falling. My stomach drops as the wind assaults my face and for a minute, I wonder if this is right.

I hit the water and it is like I've fallen into icy. I gasp without realizing it and then swallow a mouthful of water. I get send into a panic as my body starts to hurt from the cold. My mind is sent out of control and forgets why I am doing this, rather struggles to try and get out. No. I want to tell it, just leave me be! I breath in again, and more water enters my lungs. The panic is increasing while the edges of my mind are getting fuzzy. I'm sure if my eyes were open that they would slowly be filling with black. My lungs were stinging from the lack of air and the water that was filling it.

Nothing. There was nothing in my mind now as I reached the moments before I blacked out. It was worth it. I was free.

Maybe if I am reborn I will be able to be someone that people can remember.

I wonder if anyone will even notice that I am gone.

Goodbye sick world, regards from Matthew Williams.


End file.
